Swiftcurrent Creek rasputin

She stood—a glare on her features. There was nothing delicate about her—a fierce stubbornness that emanated from her. Had she not just noshed on his daughter’s ear, he might have found her more endearing.

Instead, the lift of her paw to her scar reminded him the stamp of a child, and he snapped toward her, centimeters before her, a snarl reverberating in his chest.

“The fuck can awqalli do for us?” A challenge, he stood before her—lashing tail, teeth that practically ached to render her flesh. “I kill, too. So the fuck, would you do for us after coming into my land and harming my own?”